Peter Gunn, Edie Hart and other characters from the original "Peter Gunn" TV series unfortunately don't belong to me, nor do I make any financial gain from this story. But that doesn't mean I can't play with the characters and make them do what I want them to do. Most of the time. If I ask nicely. Actually, the usually just do what they want and rarely listen to me.

Thanks to those who've read or reviewed and have come back to me with questions or comments. I appreciate the feedback. Thanks especially to Melchy, who has the patience to provide answers to questions when I really can't explain why I'm asking them!

That's a Sneaky Way to Propose

Chapter 2: Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Edie Hart smiled graciously as she extended a pleasant goodnight to the attractive young couple who'd been celebrating the woman's birthday with an evening of fine dining and dancing at the supper club. She sighed and glanced at Leslie, watching in amusement as the maitre d' bestowed his own knowing smile upon the couple and held the door for them while simultaneously slipping menus to a silver-haired gentleman and his wife as they entered. Edie's was especially busy on this evening, giving the entrepreneurial girl singer very little time to dwell on her own problems, though the sight of the young man and woman enjoying their night out had brought them to the forefront.

She hadn't laid eyes on Pete since very early the previous evening, just after the club had opened, and she was worried. She didn't know exactly why she should be worried, since what happened had been entirely the man's fault, but her mind kept straying to him and where he could be and whether perhaps she could have handled the situation better. She was fairly certain she could have, had to admit it to herself even though she didn't want to. But she'd been irritated and annoyed and yes, just that little bit jealous, when she saw a woman, and a gorgeous one at that, slather the kind of kiss this woman had slathered on Pete, with him seemingly putting up little resistance. Her Irish dander had been raised and she had reacted accordingly. She had even seen Leslie give Pete the stink-eye as she had brushed past the maitre d' and headed for her dressing room.

Several minutes later she had heard Pete grab and turn the door knob only to come to an abrupt halt against the door when he found himself locked out. Then he had knocked and said her name. When she declined to answer he'd wiggled the door knob.

"Come on, Edie. Open the door." His exasperated sigh was audible through the barrier separating them before his knuckles rapped gently a second time. "I'd really rather not have this conversation standing out in the hall." His voice lowered a notch. "Jean Paul is glaring at me from the kitchen doorway and he has a boning knife in his hand."

Was that a hint of teasing in his voice? Grrr. He certainly wasn't taking this as seriously as she was. And as he should be. The man could frustrate her beyond reason sometimes. Which only added to her aggravation of the moment. She unlocked the door and pulled it open a crack and peered out at him.

"You should have thought of all that before you kissed that, that-"

"Edie!" Her name passed his lips in a tone of restrained impatience. And yes, there was definitely an edge of humor coloring his voice and a soft amusement danced in the deep blue of his eyes. "She was the only one doing any kissing. And I very properly turned my cheek."

"That's not what it looked like to me!"

"Well maybe if you'd stuck around longer it would have become obvious." Obvious like the frustration in his voice, he thought. But when did hearing that ever stop the woman? Usually it did just the opposite because she knew she'd gotten a reaction out of him. And wasn't that one of the wonderful things he loved about their relationship? That mingling of gorgeous chaos and confusion she brought into his life was something he would never be able to live without now that he'd been given a taste of it.

"And exactly how many kisses should I have stayed around for?" She was aggravated and she was jealous. Deep inside she knew she shouldn't be, but she just couldn't help herself. She couldn't get that woman and that kiss out of her mind. And naturally it only spurred her on when she should have been smart enough to quit. "Or maybe I should have waited until it progressed a little further than that?"

Edie snapped the door shut again but didn't lock it this time, just leaned back against it with her arms crossed. She knew Pete could have easily pushed past her while the door had been open and would have no trouble getting around the lock if he was so inclined. Peter Gunn was very good with locks. She almost had to smile but fought the urge with all due diligence.

The PI's lips compressed as he attempted to control his own smile. It had been a while since Edie Hart's green-eyed monster had shown itself to this degree. He missed those little outbursts of insecurity when they didn't occur on a regular basis, something he'd never tell her but which he figured she probably knew anyway. A quick calculation told him the last time she'd been this irate with him had been about six months earlier but for an entirely different reason. She'd come home to lamps shattered on the floor and bullet holes in the walls and he'd had to explain how and why Lieutenant Jacoby had ended up killing three goons in the living room.

"Edie..." If there was the hint of a chuckle in his voice he couldn't help it. "Please tell me you're not jealous of another woman. Especially not–" He snapped his mouth shut, realizing too late that those final two words should never have come out of his mouth.

Pete sighed and closed his eyes, bracing himself with a hand on the jamb on each side of the door, and waited for the door to open once again, which it very quickly did, this time wide enough for him to step through. If he dared. He kept his eyes closed until Edie spoke.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Pete opened his eyes and decided he had never seen her this mad before. Not even that time when she pushed him into the river. He was suddenly glad they weren't out on the veranda or on the old dock where Mother's once stood. From the look in her eyes she might not just push him into the river but might actually jump in after him to hold his head under the water.

"Especially not what? Or should I say who?"

"It doesn't mean anything," he very quietly said. "You just drive me crazy sometimes." He pushed away from the door and ran a frustrated hand over his hair, lips tilting in a grin despite himself. "I told you once you're the most suspicious girl I've ever known and that certainly hasn't changed!"

"I drive you crazy?" The blonde's eyes spit blue fire and her voice became dangerously quiet. "You don't know the meaning of the word!" Her jaw set and she could feel angry tears threatening the back of her eyes but she wasn't going to let him see that. "I think you should leave."

"Edie–"

"You need to go. I don't want to talk to you right now." Her gaze rested on his necktie. She couldn't look him in the eyes as she spoke. No matter what he might or might not have done she wouldn't have been able to bear what she knew she would see there and that would be her undoing. If she looked him in the eyes she would melt and, and... She was mad, damn it! And she planned to stay mad until she wasn't anymore.

Pete gave a sigh and leaned forward and touched his lips to that perfect spot on the side of her neck. It cheered him that she didn't pull away. His lips swept across her ear in a tender caress and he left a brief kiss at her temple.

"See you later, Silly."

He had backed up a half step, buttoned the jacket of his nice charcoal gray suit, stuffed his right hand in his pants pocket (where Edie knew he'd begin fiddling with his lighter out of habit) then turned and walked down the short hall and through the door into the club. And that was the last she'd seen of him. She'd gotten over her anger at Pete for the most part, knowing that she'd undoubtedly read more into what she had seen than was really there. Maybe he hadn't actually kissed the pretty woman with the light brown hair and hazel eyes. His face had sort of been turned away. And the more she thought about it she recalled there had been a man with the woman, a nice looking man with dark brown hair and a smiling face. Edie sighed and shook her head. She was an idiot. Sometimes she wondered how in the world Pete had managed to put up with her jealous streak for the past three years.

Emmett had been kind enough to drop her at the apartment after the club was closed for the night, insisting Pete wouldn't want him to leave her to take a cab home. Pete hadn't been there nor had he come home before Edie eventually left for work again earlier this evening. She glanced at her watch. It was nearing one o'clock. Even as annoyed as she'd been the previous evening she knew Pete wouldn't purposely stay away and make her worry. After all, it wasn't as if this was the first argument they'd ever had. And as he had said, she was the most suspicious girl he had ever known. But that was only because she loved him and disliked seeing other women's vain attempts to gain his attention.

"Continually checking your watch won't encourage time to pass any more quickly than the norm, notwithstanding Mr. Einstein's General Theory of Relativity," Leslie advised, suddenly appearing at her side. He raised his eyebrows. "Are we suddenly impatient for some reason that I've not been made aware, Miss Hart?"

Edie gave him a blank look then shook her head slightly as her brain finally caught up with his words, her blonde hair swinging in loose curls against her neck and cheeks.

"I'm just concerned about Pete," she said, this time glancing toward the door as though wishing the man to walk through it would make it happen.

"Ah, yes. Our Mr. Gunn did seem to be rather the worse for wear."

"It's not like him not to come by or at least call, even when we've had an argument." Her forehead crinkled with concern. "As a matter of fact he usually makes it a priority when we've had a disagreement, just to let me know that we'll be okay."

The maitre'd frowned and spared a confused glance for the woman.

"I fear we're speaking at odds here, Miss Hart." Leslie smiled and nodded politely at a middle-aged couple as they left the establishment. This time it was he who checked his watch. "Mr. Gunn wandered in at least an hour and a half ago and made his way toward your office. Or at least I thought he did. As I said he did seem a bit out of sorts."

Edie stared at Leslie in confusion for a moment before abruptly turning and heading in the direction he had indicated, the quick click of her heels on the tiled floor indicating her hurry. Leslie was right behind her, his voice bringing her to a halt next to the bar as he caught Charlie O'Brien's attention.

"Mr. O'Brien, did you happen to see Mr. Gunn when he came in earlier?"

The fresh-faced, forty-ish bartender nodded, keeping a watch on three customers while drying a wine glass. He glanced at the maitre d' then smiled at Edie.

"Sure did. He asked me for a shot glass and a bottle of bourbon." O'Brien shelved the dry wine glass and snagged another, making quick work of it as he continued to look at Edie. "Then he headed out back." He gave a motion with his head toward the veranda.

"Bourbon?" Edie questioned, her face scrunching up in confusion. "A whole bottle? Are you sure? That doesn't sound like Pete."

"Yes, ma'am," the bartender nodded. "He took a bottle of the good stuff. The very good stuff."

"No. That doesn't sound like Pete at all." Edie shook her head slowly. If it was possible there was more concern in her voice than there had been earlier. "Something must have happened."

The maitre d' sighed as he watched Edie Hart hurry toward the back of the club. Some days he wished for much less drama than his current position afforded.

Edie found her way to the veranda and looked for Pete. It was close to closing time and the area was empty of diners and the little alcove she and the PI called their own offered up nothing but shadows. A bottle of Glenmore Bourbon and a shot glass were on a table and she was glad, but not overly surprised, to see that the seal on the liquor bottle hadn't been broken. Pete wasn't much of a drinker other than a glass of wine when the occasion warranted or a bottle of Budweiser when he wanted to relax after a particularly difficult job. The majority of the time if he poured himself something stronger it sat untouched. She frowned and walked farther out toward the railing. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she thought she saw the brief orange glow of a cigarette about halfway down the steps leading to the pier that angled out into the river.

"Pete?"

The PI tossed his cigarette aside, letting it float to the river below, and raised himself up halfway as Edie found the top step and eased her way down to him with the aid of lights reflecting off the slow moving water below. His hand found and encompassed hers and he settled her beside him on the step, enjoying the closeness of her sitting next to him in the warm, muggy air of the mid-June evening. Her fingers laced with his as their hands rested against his thigh and he could feel her eyes on him.

"What's wrong?" She cut to the chase and Pete had to chuckle.

"Nothing's wrong," he assured her.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"That's not what Leslie said. He said you looked the worse for wear."

"What else is new?" He gave her one of those little indulgent smiles that said to her she was stating the obvious. His eyes roamed her face and he decided she looked very pretty tonight, even if he could barely make out her features in the shadows weighing against the steps they were perched on. He said as much and got a weak smile in return.

"I've been worried."

"Why?" The PI reached inside his jacket and plucked the pack of Luckies from his shirt pocket. Extracting the last cigarette, he crumpled the paper and cellophane into a tight ball and tossed it toward the trash can below the steps, grunting in satisfaction when he hit his target. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he reached for the lighter in his right pants pocket, his eyes on the woman next to him.

"You didn't come home last night."

"I didn't?"

"No." Confusion colored her eyes at the long teasing look he gave her as he released a stream of smoke from his nostrils. "Did you?"

"I'm pretty sure I was changing clothes in someone's apartment at five this morning." He flicked the lighter back on and made a show of inspecting the tailor's label on the inside seam of his jacket. "Yep, it's mine." He snapped the lighter shut and re-pocketed it.

"Pete–" She twisted around to face him, their knees brushing, her voice exasperated.

"You were on the sofa wrapped up in a blanket tight as a cocoon." The PI took a final drag from his cigarette and flicked the half-smoked butt into the water to keep company with the one he'd smoked earlier. "You looked tired and I didn't have the heart to wake you. Besides..." He leaned in to kiss her cheek, his lips lingering and his warm breath tickling her skin. "...you were snoring almost as loud as the puppy." Edie felt his smile against her neck and her own lips curved in reflexive response. "It was cute."

"I'm sorry for yesterday."

"Don't be." Pete's voice was muffled but the smile was still there. "If you didn't act silly every once in a while I'd begin to think you didn't love me anymore." He tilted his head so he could see her face. "I've grown accustomed to your girlishly suspicious nature. I kinda like it."

"I love you very much." She leaned into him and her arms came up to encircle his broad shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the short hairs on the back of his neck that told her he'd gotten a fresh haircut sometime in the hours since she'd last seen him.

"What was she doing here anyway?" Pete asked, deciding enough time had passed that he could bring up the subject of yesterday's visitor without fear of melodrama.

"Why ask me? She's your old girlfriend, not mine."

The blonde derived some secret enjoyment in the adjective she assigned to Janice Baker, though from the humorous glint in Pete's eyes maybe it wasn't so secret after all. Pete had dated the pretty brown-haired woman for six months, their relationship ending almost three and a half years before he and Edie met. Edie herself had met the woman only once, following a dinner concert she and Pete had attended about a year ago, and though they were separated in age by only a couple of years Edie felt it quite apropos to refer to her as Pete's old girlfriend. From that one brief encounter she had found Janice Baker to be quite friendly and cordial, but a number of other adjectives, some – well most – not so nice, had crossed her mind when she'd seen the pretty woman come through the door the previous evening and make a beeline for the PI.

"I don't like thinking of you with another woman."

The PI lifted his chin from her shoulder so he could look into her face. Edie wished she could read his expression. The deep shadows of the first hour of morning blended with the lights reflecting off the river below to hide whatever the man was thinking. His eyes said something, many somethings, most of which she was fluent in, but there lurked in their dark blue depths a different something at that precise moment. It stayed there, then was gone, and his lips tilted again in that little indulgent smile that was only ever just for her.

"Neither do I."

When it seemed as though he would say something further he instead leaned in to kiss her, their lips compulsively clinging even as he eventually pulled away.

"Let's go home." Pete grasped her hand in his again, helping her up and watching as she smoothed her skirt and dusted off whatever might have attached itself from the old pine wood planking of the steps. "You still look tired."

"I need to help Leslie close up."

"No need, Miss Hart." The smooth voice of the maitre d' found its way to them from the darkness at the top of the steps. "I believe if I try extremely hard I might just be able to manage on my own for one night," he continued, the smile that colored his voice still curving his lips when the pair arrived back up on the veranda.

Both men watched, one with amused tenderness, the other with a knowing smile, as the woman nodded her thanks and headed inside to gather her things. As Edie disappeared past the few lingering patrons the PI glanced at the maitre d'.

"How about making that a few nights, Leslie." The words weren't really presented in the form of a question, but more of a request.

"Mr. Gunn?"

"I think our girl entrepreneur needs a small vacation." Pete gave his wristwatch a look then moved to the nearby table to retrieve the unopened bottle of bourbon and the shot glass. "Maybe a long weekend. I realize it's barely Wednesday morning but if you could manage things until Monday I'll owe you one."

"Consider it done."

"Thanks, Leslie. As the grocery boy at the A&P said to Edie last week..." Pete gave the maitre d' an uncharacteristic manly clap on the back as he stepped around him. "...you're the ginchiest."

Leslie remained where he was, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes following the PI with a hint of confusion as the tall dark-haired man strolled past the dining tables and stage and stepped behind the bar to stand next to O'Brien. Ginchiest? He supposed he'd have to call that man Wilbur to find out whether he'd been complimented or insulted. His gaze continued to touch on Pete as he watched him set the shot glass on the counter at the bartender's elbow and then return the liquor bottle to its appropriate place. He saw Pete's hand hover for a moment of apparent indecision before he picked up another bottle and said something to O'Brien that had the bartender smiling his quirky smile and nodding. His curiosity getting the better of him as the PI and his girlfriend left the club, Leslie wandered nonchalantly to the bar and stood contemplating the empty space left behind by the bottle of which Peter Gunn had availed himself. He raised an eyebrow. The PI had taken a bottle of the very best champagne in the house.